How The Day Sounds
by Mione of Ravenclaw II
Summary: What happened after the Final Battle? A collection of loosely related oneshots from a variety of perspectives. Canon compliant. New chapter: Ginny and Harry talk for the first time after the Battle.
1. Salvation Dear: Severus Snape

**A/N-This is part of what will eventually be a series of loosely related oneshots from shortly after the battle in _Deathly Hallows_. A longer explanation is in the Author's note at the end. Enjoy and please review!**

It rushed over him suddenly, more swiftly and decisively than he could have ever imagined death would come. One moment, he thought that he could feel everything—the rough, hard wooden floor beneath him, that cloak in his fist, the sticky, warm blood gushing out of savagely torn skin, and those eyes, those eyes that still haunted him, focusing all of their attention on his broken body. He was trying to burn that image into his brain, as though having a mental image of something as simple as emerald eyes might somehow save him, redeem him.

The eyes couldn't save him though; he knew it, but refused to believe that such matters might be beyond his own power. He wanted to remember nothing but those eyes, so he let the rest of it go. He was surprised at how easily the swirling silver memories escaped his body; memories that he had held in the strictest confidence for years simply seeped out into the damp, dark shack.

He wasn't sure how long he lay on the floor, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before he felt death come as swiftly and surely as he hoped the death of Lily's murderer would. First he felt all pain leave his body. A split second later, he could see and feel nothing.

He felt as though he were floating, floating in nothingness. It seemed like a very long time, but there was no way of telling; he had no body, no vision. He felt like a feather floating on a mysterious breeze. It was not a sensation he thought he would ever enjoy, but he wasn't exactly thinking in his current state. He simply existed and quite enjoyed the tranquility after months and years of turmoil and deceit.

Without warning, he suddenly could feel and think again. He kept his eyes closed as his hand felt the side of his neck where there had been a gash and felt nothing but smooth skin, skin that felt much younger than it had been back in the shack. There was a smooth floor beneath him, very unlike the roughly hewn boards he'd last felt pressed against his back. When he opened his eyes, he saw the same thing though—those piercing green eyes.

They were a bit different though. There were no glasses framing them, and they were somehow more feminine. He blinked again and the face came into focus.

"Lily?"

"Yes, it's me," she said with a gentle smile as she offered him a hand. "Here, why don't you get up? We have a lot to talk about."

Still in a daze, Snape took her hand and got up off of the floor of what he now realized was an immaculately clean Hogwarts Express. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window and was surprised to see that he looked exactly as he had in his early twenties.

"What's going on here?" He said coolly as he appraised his new appearance.

"Sit down," Lily said as she gestured to the seat across from the one she had just sat down in. "And I'll explain everything."

He followed her instruction and sat in the seat. "So?"

"You're dead, Sev," Lily said.

"That much I know," said Snape. Though he hated to admit it to himself, a small thrill shot through him at hearing her use his old nickname. He never told her when they were in school, but he hated the nickname. Only when she said it did he ever feel anything remotely resembling fondness for it. "What is all of this though?"

"You didn't just think that you die and that was the end of it, did you?" Lily said. "There is life after death."

"I never thought much about it," Snape said. "Would you care to explain it to me?"

"I thought that you liked to figure things out. Either that or you already had the answers to begin with. I never thought that Severus Snape would deign to ask someone else for an explanation," Lily said, a smile playing on her lips.

Snape allowed himself a small smile. "That is generally the case, but I suspect that you are here to furnish me with this information."

"That is part of my purpose," Lily confirmed. "We have already confirmed two very important facts. I am in fact Lily, and you are in fact dead. There are several other matters that we need to address before arriving."

"Arriving where?"

"Patience, Sev, patience," Lily said calmly. "I'm sure that you must have other questions for me before we depart this train. Wouldn't you like to know why it is I who have come to welcome you?"

"I have my suspicions, but please tell me. Why exactly is it that you are here to greet me?"

"When someone dies, they come here," said Lily as she gestured to her surroundings. "And they are greeted by someone who has fully passed on. It is the person who can answer the questions that the recently deceased most needs answered before they can fully pass on and feel at peace. Harry, for example, got Albus Dumbledore."

"Harry is dead?" Snape repeated hollowly. "That's not possible. I just saw him; I gave him my memories. The Dark Lord has won?"

"So quite some time has passed in your trip here, I see," Lily said. "Harry didn't die, not completely. He willingly sacrificed his life and was given a choice to live or die. I'm happy to say that he chose to live. The rest of the story is quite convoluted, but the bottom line is that Voldemort is dead and Harry is alive."

Snape, though he had never been what one would characterize as fond of Harry, was glad to know that Harry hadn't died. He was even happier to know that Voldemort had met his end.

"So he's gone for good now?" said Snape.

"Gone for good. And a lot of credit goes to you for that," said Lily. "You were good, Sev. I wouldn't have guessed it after everything, but you were really, truly _good_."

"I was neither good nor bad," he said. "I had my own reasons that had nothing to do with Dumbledore or the Dark Lord's agenda."

"Yes, you did," said Lily quietly as she looked at her hands. "I know them now too."

"You do?" He thought that if he had a body in the traditional sense that he might have paled considerably.

"Yes. While I was watching over Harry, I saw everything in the memories that you gave him," she looked up now and tears were shimmering in her eyes. "I had no idea, Sev."

"Would it have even made a difference?" Snape asked. His voice was not exactly cold, but in the way that he spoke, it was clear that he knew the answer.

"I'm sorry," said Lily. "I'm so sorry. I only ever saw you as a friend, a very, very good friend, but a friend nonetheless. I'm sorry that I treated your emotions so carelessly."

Snape flinched almost imperceptibly at this. "As I suspected. Not as I had hoped, but as I suspected."

"I'm sorry," Lily repeated as though it were a spell that could fix things. "I love James."

Snape gave a snort of derisive laughter. "James Potter? You mean that, how did you put it? 'Arrogant toerag' I believe were your exact words."

"I know what I said, and he might have been one then," Lily said, a sharpness to her voice for the first time in the conversation. "But I believe that we are all entitled to make mistakes in our youth and atone for them later. You, of all people, should understand that."

The truth to her cutting remark rendered Snape speechless. He felt a little bit ashamed at having made Lily lose her patience. There was a pause in which neither spoke as they simply looked at one another.

"Listen, Sev," she continued without the sharpness of her previous comment. "I know that you are sorry for my death, and what you did was very courageous. I know of few people who could have done what you did, and I know that you did it for me. I cannot thank you enough for that, especially for taking care of Harry. I will always be grateful to you for that."

"No thanks are necessary," he said as he stood up. He had a feeling that they would be arriving at their destination soon; Snape wasn't sure where the feeling came from, perhaps a new sense he received after death. Maybe he could tell that he was very close to getting the answers he needed.

Lily nodded and stood up as well. "So your trip is coming to an end?"

"Aren't you suppose to know that?"

"Only you can tell when you have the answers you need to move on," she responded. "I just hope that you get the salvation you were hoping for back in the shack."

"There's no need for you to hope for my salvation dear. I mean Lily. No need to hope for that Lily," Snape said quickly as the train slowed and finally lurched to a stop. He opened the door of the train and stood as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

The Hogwarts grounds spanned the horizons. There was no fighting and the walls were not crumbling. Flashes of light did not light up the sky and the shrieks of pain and explosions of war were completely absent. As a matter of fact, all discordant sensory stimulation seemed to have been removed, and the castle was lit up by the most beautiful sunrise that he had ever seen.

"Is this heaven?" he asked. There was a thoughtful pause before Lily spoke.

"You never seemed like the type to believe in that kind of thing," Lily said from behind him.

"This day has been full of surprises then, hasn't it?" he responded dryly.

"Yes, it has," Lily said softly. "I'm sorry. About everything."

"Please stop saying that," Snape said as he turned around to face her. It was not the cold, harsh command that he was use to giving, but there was uncharacteristic warmth to his voice. "I do believe that I have what I needed, so thank you for that. I now understand that no one else could have given me what you did. I should be going into the castle now. I have the feeling that I have to do it alone."

"Yes, you do," said Lily. "Not everyone does, but you do. When you get up there, you will be able to see whomever you wish to see, and whatever you wish to see. You have, after all, decided that it's Heaven."

Snape nodded and smirked at Lily. "Goodbye then."

"Goodbye," Lily said with a smile and a little wave of the hand.

Without looking back, Severus Snape stepped off of the train and made his way towards the castle.

**A/N-This is the first part of my response to my Song and Dance Challenge on the HPFC forum. Each chapter will bear the title of a different song from an album and reflect the mood of the song. I have choosen Greg Laswell's "How the Day Sounds," but you don't need to have heard any of the songs to read this fic. The songs simply serve as my inspiration. I hope that you enjoyed this first part! **

**I adore reviews, even just a few words brighten my day! **


	2. Days Go On: Molly Weasley

**A/N-This is the second in what will be a series of six oneshots dealing with what happened in the time shortly after the Battle for a variety of perspectives. Now it's Mrs. Weasley's turn... **

_**Days Go On**_

Molly Weasley was cooking.

She had cooked far more than her family of nine, no, eight could possibly eat in a week, but she kept cooking because she didn't know what else to do. She needed to keep busy, otherwise time would drag by too slowly to bear. As it were, each tick of the clock felt like a knife going through her. Each passing second brought the harsh reality into sharper focus. It was another second that Fred wasn't there, a reminder that it hadn't been another one of thier pranks, that Fred wasn't going to walk through that door.

She knew it wasn't a prank because it was sunset. It was sunset and Fred wasn't home with her.

Fred wasn't there, and all of the activity in the world could not have made her forget it. She couldn't shake the image of her son, her fun loving George, kneeling by his brother crying like she had never seen him cry before. She thought that seeing that scene might cause her heart to physically break in two. The pain had shot through her battle weary body and threatened to rend her apart.

Even worse, she couldn't muster any happy memories of Fred. After Fred's death, the sorrow, the memories had hung in the around her like a stifling mass of humid air. When she had returned home, the air became too heavy and there had been a downpour, a deluge of memories flooding in around her. She wanted happy memories, but she had little choice in the matter; all she felt at her current thoughts was regret.

She thought of all of the times when Fred and George had been children, and she'd been too busy to pay enough attention them. Then she had flashes of the countless times that she had reprimanded them for some nonsense prank that they had concocted. Mrs. Weasley recalled her doting over all of the siblings, and with a pang of guilt realized that she had never told Fred that she was proud of him. She had told all of the other children when they were named prefects how excited she was, but she never offered as much praise to the twins for their successful joke shop.

How could she have been so thoughtless? She loved all of her children so much, yet she had somehow overlooked the twins, brushed aside Fred's entrepreneurial success as though it were nothing, as though it weren't as impressive as a foolish prefect badge. She remembered with painful clarity the conversation shortly after Ron received his prefect badge. She remembered saying how wonderful it was to have everyone in the family as a prefect. George had quipped "What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" but she had pushed them aside in her excitement for Ron. Her rational mind knew that they hadn't felt offended or put out, but Molly had an overwhelming feeling of guilt. It weighed her down so much so that she marveled at her ability to stand upright. Surely, such a burden should crush a person, they should be forced to the ground under the weight of it.

It wasn't just that one incident either. With each new memory, it felt as though another massive weight was being dropped on her shoulders. Molly Weasley had always been a strong woman, but she felt as though she might crack under the weight of misplaced guilt and impossibly intense grief.

She stopped her frenzied, complex, wand movements to glance at the clock. Thirty minutes, it had been thirty minutes since she had returned home alone, a half an hour that felt like half a lifetime. Then her eyes caught a glimpse of that other clock, the one that never told the time, the one that she had stared at for months, hoping futiley that she could will each hand out of "mortal peril." With a sinking feeling, she realized that there was something terribly wrong with it. No one was in mortal peril anymore, but Fred's hand was missing. Something about the absence of that simple hand made the loss more real and cruel than seeing his body had. He was gone from the Burrow for good.

Molly froze as she stared at the clock. After a moment, she tore the clock off of the wall as though it had been the cause of Fred's death. With a frightening amount of force she heaved the clock at the opposite wall and watched as it shattered into tiny fragments. She watched and savored being able to do something; she was destroying the evidence and took a savage enjoyment from it. It gave her the same sensation that killing Bellatrix had; she felt an unparalleled power over something or someone that caused unparalleled pain.

When the final fragment settled on the floor, Molly realized that the clock hadn't been the source of pain. Even after destroying it, she still felt a hole that ached so profoundly that she doubted whether it could ever be filled.

She sank to the floor and sat with her back against the wall as she allowed her body to be wracked with sobs. Wave after wave of grief crashed over her as she sat on the floor. Molly thought that she might drown in it, and believed that she'd welcome the oblivion that would come with it.

She allowed herself to be so consumed that she didn't hear the floo; she didn't even hear the footsteps hurrying over to her. Molly only became aware of company when she felt a hand on each shoulder and heard a concerned voice.

"Mum," Ginny said, gently taking her mother's shoulders. Her voice cracked, but she kept speaking. "Mum, look at me. Please mum, just look at me."

Mrs. Weasley looked up from her hands at her daughter kneeling in front of her. She wondered if Ginny realized how close she came to joining Fred, whether Ginny realized that the jet of light had come so close that it had ruffled a loose strand of hair like an innocuous summer breeze. Molly didn't think that she could have survived that loss on top of Fred's death. She was quite positive that seeing her only daughter murdered would have meant the end of her own life; the pain would have killed her on the spot. This, Ginny being alive and home, was something that she could cling to. It wouldn't fill the hole or dry up the swamp of bitter guilt, but it was a life vest that would keep her from drowning.

Molly hoisted herself off of the floor through sheer will power and wiped her eyes. She needed to be strong for Ginny right now. She noticed Ginny glance at the splinters of what once was the clock, though Ginny didn't say anything. Molly forced a sad smile and Ginny did the same before suddenly hugging her mother more tightly than she ever had.

"It's going to be ok someday. It won't hurt so much someday," Ginny said and Molly suspected that Ginny was holding back tears too. "Harry's alive." Mrs. Weasley suspected that that was Ginny's life vest, the bright spot that was allowing her to function after seeing the horrors of full-blown warfare.

"Yes, he is," Mrs. Weasley said. She couldn't agree on the first part because she couldn't see how it would ever get any better. After holding Ginny and stroking her hair for awhile, she pulled away enough so that she could look Ginny in the face. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind Ginny's ear before speaking.

"When something like this happens it just seems like the days go on and on," she said, recalling the murder of her brothers, how the days after learning of their deaths seemed more like years.

"It will get better," Ginny repeated. "It has to get better."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter, but didn't have the heart to contradict Ginny's stubborn insistence that things would get better with time. After another moment of silence, Ginny spoke again.

"Why did you come back here all alone?" she asked.

"I needed to cook," Mrs. Weasley said simply. "I need to take care of my family."

"They're serving dinner back at the castle," Ginny said. "We missed you, you should come back and eat with us."

"But the food," Mrs. Weasley repeated insistently, tears welling in her eyes. "I need to finish cooking Ginny. I can't just neglect the food, throw it aside as though it matters less than the food at the castle."

Ginny looked at her mother quizzically, not sure what to make of her mother's insistence on cooking here at the Burrow.

"We can bring the food back to Hogwarts if you want to," Ginny said tentatively.

"Wouldn't you like some here though? Right at the table where we normally eat?" Mrs. Weasley said, and she sensed a note of desperation in her voice that she wished wasn't there.

Ginny gave her mother a small smile. "Sure," she said. "I'd love to. They can wait a little longer for us to get back."

"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley whispered as she kissed her daughter on the forehead. "I love you, and I'm proud of you. You know that right?"

"I know," Ginny said. "I love you too."

After a moment that seemed more like a day, Mrs. Weasley hurried off to the kitchen. She made up her mind then and there that she would continue to devote every last bit of energy she had to taking care of what family she had left. She thought that feeding Ginny, as she had so many times before, was certainly a good start.

**A/N-I'm not so sure about this chapter/one shot. I'm not particularly fond of how I end it, but I tried a number of different things and this works best. **

**Please review; I'd really appreciate it!**


	3. High and Low: Ginny Weasley

**A/N-This is the third in a series of oneshots about what happened after the Battle from a variety of perspectives. It's Ginny's turn now...**

_**High and Low**_

Ginny roamed the halls of Hogwarts.

The fact alone wasn't altogether out of the ordinary. The school had been her second home for the past six years, and Ginny had always been a naturally curious person, so she could often be found wandering aimlessly through abandoned corridors early in the morning. As a young student, she had not been frightened by the vaguely sinister shadows that flickered across the stone walls, nor was she put off by the eerie calmness that pervaded the corridor. She found the unique atmosphere to be a source of tranquility after a sleepless night. For a few hours, these halls were hers and she didn't have to share them with anyone; it was a welcome change after living with six brothers her entire life.

These weren't her halls any more though.

Although Ginny was completely and utterly alone, she felt no peace as she made her way through corridor after corridor. Rubble and debris was scattered across the halls, left to be cleaned until battle wounds healed. These corridors would never be hers again, not like they had been before. Now they belonged to the war, and, in a way, they always would.

She stopped and surveyed the hallway as though looking for something. After a moment, Ginny continued walking. This walk wasn't an aimless persuit; she was searching. It seemed to have become her job to search for people, to find them and bring them back, even if they didn't want finding.

She had found her mother, or at least a shell of her mother. Seeing her mother so broken and grief-stricken scared Ginny more than she would ever admit. She'd taken up the role of comforter even though she desperately wanted to be the comforted. She said things that she didn't believe in her heart because she thought that her mother needed someone to tell her that it would be ok, that burying a child would somehow become acceptable with time. She had tried to convince herself of it too, but something in the depth of her soul wouldn't allow her to believe it.

Comprehending her mother's pain was beyond Ginny though, so she'd lamely repeated the hollow promise with all of the conviction that she could muster. What else could she have done? Ginny had never been put in the position of having to take care of her mother. Molly Weasley always took care of people, comforted them and mothered them; she never seemed to need taking care of. That sudden change in her mother was the thing that frightened Ginny most of all, more so than the magnitude of her grief. Ginny could understand grief, but she had a hard time wrapping her mind around a vulnerable Molly Weasley.

Ginny continued to walk through the halls, glancing in empty rooms as she went. Were she not so stubbornly persistent, Ginny would have given up a long time ago on searching the massive castle. Most people would have considered it more trouble than it was worth to traipse through the rubble to look for someone who probably would rather be alone. Ginny wasn't most people though; besides, the search was something to keep her from dwelling too long on any one thing.

She was hardly paying attention to where her feet were taking her when she turned a corner and saw the worst damage that she had encountered in her travels so far. The scene jarred Ginny so much that she stopped dead in her tracks to take it in. It wasn't just the sheer destruction that took hold of all of her senses. This place, this spot, gave Ginny a strange feeling. She felt as though she were in the presence of a ghost, not the ghost of a person; it was the ghost if a memory, of a moment in time. The moment clung to this spot, not ready to abandon it, continuing to haunt it's home. Ginny didn't know what it was, but something important had happened here, something of earth-shattering, life changing importance.

Then she caught sight of a figure that made her heart skip a beat leaning against the wall staring blankly out of the gaping hole. To say that it was the very person that she was looking for, Ginny was surprised to see him.

"Harry?" Her voice was weaker than she had expected it to be.

He snapped to attention at the sound of her voice and gave her a half-smile. "Hi Ginny."

The sound of his voice, the sound of him saying her name, made Ginny go to pieces as she hugged him. She hadn't cried when she saw her mother sobbing, so she found it odd that just hearing him say her name caused her to dissolve into tears.

She was just so _relieved_. It had been months since she heard him say her name or seen him smile, and on more than one occasion, she was positive, she had convinced herself, that he was dead. Without any information on the whereabouts of the trio, Ginny automatically started to imagine the worst. Then she'd seen his body, his limp and apparently lifeless body, and the worst scenario possible became reality. The only thing that kept Ginny going was the numbness that came over her at the sight. She was numb to any feeling other than a thirst for revenge, a desire so intense that it scared her when she looked back on it.

"Harry," was all that she could choke out. Ginny buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed unashamedly. She thought vaguely that she was probably staining his shirt, but he didn't seem to mind, because he was hugging her back. Harry let her cry, though he seemed at a loss for what to say to the normally stoic Ginny.

When she finally got control of herself enough to speak coherently, Ginny looked up at Harry. "Let's sit down." It seemed like a strange place to sit down and have a conversation, but she didn't want to go back to the Great Hall or Gryffindor tower where there would be plenty of spectators. Ginny wanted to be alone with Harry, and this place seemed like a spot that very few people would seek out.

Harry kicked away a few small stones near the wall so that they could sit with their backs against it and look out the gaping hole in the castle. The pair sat in silence for a while before Ginny spoke again.

"Why'd you come here?" she asked softly. "I've been searching high and low for you, Harry. What are you doing here?"

Harry looked at her and didn't speak for a moment, as though he was considering what he should say. Ginny knew him well enough to sense his hesitation.

"I want the truth, Harry."

Harry paused for another moment before speaking as softly as Ginny had initially. "It's where Fred died."

"Oh," Ginny said. It made perfect sense after the feeling that she had upon seeing the ruins. She suddenly felt a wave of sadness sweep over her; it so overwhelmed her that she couldn't cry. Ginny simply felt heavy and was grateful that she was sitting because she didn't know if she would have had the strength to stand at that moment.

"He was laughing," Harry said, apparently out of the blue after a long, heavy moment of silence.

"What?" Ginny asked, looking up from the pebble that she was absently rolling between her fingers.

"Right before Fred died," Harry said, his voice wavering a bit. "Right before he died, he was laughing."

Ginny rested her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She smiled to herself as she remembered Fred laughing. His infectious laugh and unfailing sense of humor was enough to make even McGonagall crack a smile on occasion. It was comforting to recall those images with such ease, and to know that he had been happy in his final moments.

"Only Fred," Ginny said. "Only he could find something to laugh about in the middle of a battle."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, and a second later, he blurted out, "I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

"That Fred died. I'm sorry that you lost a brother," Harry said as he looked away from Ginny. "It's my fault."

Ginny was not at all surprised that Harry decided that he was responsible for Fred's death. She wouldn't be surprised if he blamed himself for every casualty and injury suffered over the course of the battle. She also saw how dangerous it would be to for him to even try to take on that kind of load, how the guilt would very likely change him, break him.

"No, Harry," Ginny said sternly. "Harry look at me. It was not your fault, none of the deaths were your fault. You didn't force anyone to fight, and it wasn't as though you weren't fighting too."

"But—

"No, Harry!" Ginny said as she turned so that she was kneeling next to him, she needed to get through to him before he retreated too far within himself. "No but's. You _did not_ kill Fred. I don't blame you, no one does, and you can't blame yourself for any of it."

"That's all well and good for _you_ to say," Harry began, but when Ginny was determined there was no stopping her.

"Harry, did you cast the spell that killed Fred?" Ginny demanded.

"Well, no, but—

"Exactly," Ginny said, "and did you cast a spell that led to the death of anyone besides Voldemort?"

"No," Harry said, and seemed to have picked up on the fact that Ginny would cut him off at any hesitation. "No, I didn't. It's just that Fred, Lupin, and Tonks, and everyone, they were fighting for me. I can't help but feel as though they died for me. "

"Harry, they died to get rid of Voldemort," Ginny said. She was now kneeling in front of him so that he had no choice but to look at her."You have no idea how, how miserable and dark and dangerous everything was when he was in power. They were fighting to get rid of that awful kind of world. You didn't force anyone to go into that battle, Harry. They would have fought Voldemort whether you were here or not."

"Voldemort wouldn't have come to begin with if it wasn't for me though," Harry said as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He absently rubbed the scar, as he often did when he was deep in though. "If I hadn't been here, if I'd never come back, then maybe they'd all be alive and no one would have needed to fight."

Ginny leaned back on her heels and appraised Harry. She knew that he felt the need to save everyone, that he would die just so that someone else wouldn't get hurt. It was one of the things that Ginny loved about him, though she had the feeling that she could never fully understand the depth of that compulsion, how deeply it influence everything that he said and did.

"I know that I can't tell you what to feel," Ginny began. "But you can't save everyone. I know you want to, and I admire you for that. It's not your fault that you couldn't save Fred no matter how much you think it is. Even if you don't believe me can you always at least remember that? For Fred and me?"

Ginny, while she didn't completely understand Harry's psyche, knew him well enough to know that he would not turn down her request, and that he would keep his word. She was realizing that he might not be able to help feeling as guilty as he did, but at least remembering the promise might help Harry through difficult moments.

"I'll try to," he said.

Satisfied with her progress with Harry, Ginny moved back to her original position leaning against the wall beside him.

"Thank you," she said. She delicately laced her fingers between his larger, rougher ones and wiped a streak of dried mud off of his thumb. After moment in which there was absolutely no sound, Ginny spoke up. "Do you know what else Fred would want you to do?" she asked.

"No, what else?" Harry asked.

"He would want you to kiss me right now," Ginny said with mock seriousness.

She felt a bit guilty that she was joking around with Harry after what had happened in the previous twenty four hours. Ginny needed this though, this sort of lightheartedness, after the unbearably heavy conversations that she'd been having. She needed a little break, even if it was only for a fleeting moment in time.

Harry clearly hadn't been expecting that, and he really smiled for the first time in the conversation.

"Somehow I doubt that any of your brothers would want me to kiss you," he said.

"I disagree," Ginny said. "I think that he would love to see you kiss me."

Before Harry could respond, Ginny leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't something that she ever though that she'd be able to do again, and it sent pleasant shivers down her spine to think that she was free to do this over and over again now. As she continued to kiss Harry, Ginny truly thought for the first time that _maybe_, just maybe, things would get better, that they would be alright someday.

**A/N-So what did you think of this one? Do you think I accurately portray Harry and Ginny? Please review to let me know what you think! : )**


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